Monday, April 1, 2013

What a Way to Start April!

Have you ever recognized that
little mishaps occur at the most inopportune moments? It seems like whenever a
hiccup takes place, you have neither the time nor place for coping with them.
This was my thinking on Saturday. That's when it dawned on me, it would only be
a mishap, or hiccup or whatever you tend to call it, if it wasn't convenient
and brought about much additional stress, hardship and worry.So let me tell you about the
most current one.Saturday afternoon, Scott and I
were unloading the car of groceries. I was heading back toward the trunk when
there was a loud POP followed by immense pain as I fell to the ground. There
was also a not-so-lovely scream that turns out came from my own lovely mouth.
As I hit the pavement, I bellowed (Yes, it's true. I bellowed, not whimpered or
simpered or politely called. It was a full fledge manly bellow that erupted
from this dainty, feminine person. I give you permission to chuckle at this point.) for Scott. Of course, Scott must have put
in his selective hear-aid that day because it was Landon that came running and
not Scott. At this point, I'm still on the
ground moaning in pain with plenty of near-curse words going through my head that
not a single neighborly soul has rushed to see if I am going to survive. I
grunt to Landon to get Dad out there quick and he scurries away. I have yet to
look at the damage. I know that if it's as bad as it feels, I may not be able
to remain conscious if I see the bone sticking out of my leg or my foot
awkwardly twisted in the opposite direction it should be pointed in.Scott comes right out and asks
in his manly
fashion, "Are you ok?"Now, let me preface this by
explaining for a moment. If you or I, as women (If you are reading this and are
not a woman, it's because you are member of my family, your wife is making you
read this, or you are a stalker. The first two categories - I give you my
sincerest apologies for the generalization. If you are of the third category -
VAMOOS!) saw a grown, appearing to be in her right mind, woman on the ground,
my first question wouldn't be if you were ok. It's plenty obvious that if you
haven't been able to get yourself up in multiple people visits (Scott's being
the second) then you are definitely NOT ok!So in a very lady-like shriek, I
said, "NO!"Now normally, in this particular
marriage, I am the over-reacter and Scott is the calm, rational one, when it
comes to things like this. But as I looked at his face, my heart fell. I
quickly averted my eyes and, believe it or not, meekly asked if he could see
the bone sticking out.He said no but that he needed to
help me get up so we could go to the hospital. His answer both assured me that
I wasn't going to bleed to death because the bone had severed an artery as it punctured
my dermis, but at the same time, freaked me out because he immediately wanted
to go to the hospital. Do you know how expensive hospital visits are?!?!? We
had to go in January for just 2 hours and they never could figure out the
problem and those two hours cost us over
$9,000.00. That's right, you did not read that wrong! And there was no major
surgery or anything to cost us that much. It was some pee tests, a couple tubes
of blood, some Ibuprofen, and a donut ring scan - that all came back with a big
question mark. And now he wants to do it all over again!So I allow him to help me into a
sitting position. I see for myself that all body parts are where they should be
and like the mature person I am, grabbed my shoes that had come off and threw
them at the car - because I'm sure the car had some element of responsibility
in all of this! OK, so maybe it's more likely the shoes were more culpable than
the car, but the shoes are cute and they got just as much beating as the car
when I threw them.Now here is where it gets
pathetic.I'm not exactly 19 anymore and
weighing 120 lbs. Scott is more than willing to carry me into the house, (I've
been able to make him see reason about waiting until Monday to see a doctor
when the bill will be more manageable) but I need him in one piece. I quiet
possibly would break my eternal sweetheart should he attempt to carry me. Also,
I'm afraid of falling backwards. So I begin to hop toward the house.I know you are all thinking,
"Well, that's appropriate as the next day is Easter." But believe me
when I say, I am no bunny rabbit bringing beautiful eggs and goodies to
children just at this particular moment. The only thing I might be bringing is horrified
looks and fear from anyone close enough to hear the grunts and see the sweat.Honestly, those near-curse words
are still running rampant through my head but I was in no mood to tame them.
Frankly, I was impressed with myself for keeping them inside my head. So the
journey to my bed is long and tortuous, with multiple stops - to start
breathing again. It's once I'm on the bed that I
realize how inopportune a time it was for this to happen. I HAVE to go to
church the next morning. I'm playing for multiple things - the organ for our organist who just had a baby, and two
special musical numbers. I need to help with bunny duty - that's code for doing
it all alone. And don't forget the all important Easter Dinner! So we begin to
brainstorm on who we know that might have a set of crutches - the answer to all
our problems. RIGHT!So I make the call and secure
the use of my life-line.Scott takes over bunny duty - a
first in our marriage as far as I can remember. And he takes better care of me
than I thought possible.The next morning, the kids have
a wonderful hunt (Colbey dozed on the couch during the fabulous Safari. Even
the eggs with money in them could not entice him this year.) and we all prepared
to go to church.I'm pretty excited to have the
crutches and be mobile again - for the first 3 minutes. Then I realize,
crutches SUCK (Sorry for the near-curse word, I couldn't keep it in.) when you
HAVE to use them, whereas, they are great fun when you are just playing. At
this moment, I am nursing not only a seriously painful foot, but shoulder
muscles that may never have been used before and interior muscles from the
inside of my biceps to near mid belly that are screaming.I managed through church but got
home exhausted! Scott took care of dinner - minus the funeral potatoes that I
hopped and took care of (I love them, but Scott could care less about them so
they were about to fall off of the menu.). Scott makes a fabulous ham!! I've
known this for a while. He has always been better at meat than me. And we ate
family-style in the family room. Now, mom, don't have a heart-attack that I've
broken the family tradition of bringing out the crystal and china and having a
palace type experience. It's just that I was having issues getting into
anyplace easily and it won't ever happen again! I PROMISE!So the evening passes with me in
my recliner and everyone else coming and going. This is not a typical Easter! I
actually slept in the recliner. For two big reasons and one misunderstanding.Wouldn't you know it, in the
midst of all this, our A/C goes out. It won't work. We can't figure it out and
will have to call in the professionals eventually when we can't handle the heat
anymore. Lucky for us, the temperature is supposed to drop this week. So the
windows were open and the ceiling fans on full blast and the family room was
actually more comfortable temperature wise than the bedroom. Also, it was safer
for my foot not to be in the same bed as someone else. (What?!?!? That's right
folks, we don't have the Desi and Lucy set up of two beds in our room. GASP!
It's a shocker - I know. And now my mom knows, how humiliating!) And the misunderstanding
was a condition of Scott seeing me hopping around
(to get to the bathroom) and said, "Why are you here (in the bedroom)? The fans are in the
other room." kind of snippy-like. I thought he was mad at me for him
having to pick up so many extra duties this weekend and didn't want me in the
bedroom. He was actually concerned that I was hopping around and just sleepy
and didn't realizing what tone he was using. That's right, we are GREAT communicators!
: )So this morning, I call the doctor’s
office at exactly 8am. I know they have special slots they leave open for
emergency, must-be-seen-today visits, but I wanted to be first in line. Turns
out, I'm put on hold for 15 minutes and then the girls (who I find out later
has had several complaints about her and is only 18) tells me that my Doctor
doesn't have any openings until next week.Just as sweetly as you would
expect from me, I tell her next week is not an option. I can't walk, I have to
crawl to get to the bathroom, and I can't work. I need to have my foot x-rayed
TODAY! You can tell by my words just how sweet I was. And so I wait.About 15 minutes later, a
different gal calls and schedules me for 11:20.Bless Scott, he takes off work
and drives me to the Doctor's appointment and then to the x-ray facility. He
does ask me as we are going home if I think I could drive with my foot and I
tell him I would just use my left foot. Apparently, I didn't infuse much confidence
with my answer and he tells me, "It's probably safer for him to do the driving
for now." (Honestly, I could drive with my left foot. As a senior in
high-school, I broke the same foot and mom wouldn't let me drive until I could
play the piano and use the sustain pedal with my left foot. Well, I proved at
church that I can still sustain pedal just as well with my left foot as with my
right.)It turns out, it's not broken.
But they also don't have instant foot replacement options and I'm just going to
have to wait it out for the next couple of weeks for it to heal. I'm not sure I've ever been able to rest anything and keep off anything for a couple of weeks!There is a Vegi-Tale song that
goes: "I Love My Lips"My song today is: "I Love
My Feet, And I Didn't Realize How Much Until I Couldn't Use Them"PS - For any of you noticing the
date of this post - It. Has. All. Been. True. Not a single joke in this. I
guess it's my April Fool’s joke on myself. SIGH...